Previously on Run The World...
Getting divorced is surprisingly easy.
Cheers!
-Divorce can be like a death. -I'm fine.
All women deserve to fuck up at least once.
I'm sorry, what?
Every woman deserves to sleep with at least one man
who can actually change her station in life.
Why are you taking her side?
If you are fucking up, then good for you!
I love Ola so much.
I didn't cheat on him because I have doubts about him or us.
Make peace with this and bury it.
You told me seven days before you left.
You were so depressed after your publishers dropped you.
I didn't wanna make it worse.
Don't you think this will look amazing
with a thigh-high slit?
Renee, no.
What is wrong with you?
Hey.
Can you please start being
the friends that I very much need right now?
So what's going on?
This wedding is literally bringing out the worst in my friends.
And maybe me, too.
Ever feel like every day is a fight?
Lately, I wake up, and I feel like I have to put on my armor,
even when I'm with my girls.
I'm fantastic.
I'm just here because, you know,
divorces and therapy seem like a natural combo.
And besides, I need to use my flex spending.
I can't believe this is where I am at this point in my life.
And what point is that?
You know, I have patients whose lives are really fucked up.
You're 32, you're employed,
you're beautiful, you're smart–
And yet my life's a shit show.
♪ Drink in my hand Chilling on a rooftop ♪
Hi! Can you sign this, please?
Of course! What's your name?
Jacquetta, spelled the regular way.
Huge fan of "What The El." I read it every day.
You've taught me how to be sexy
and empowered and perfectly single–
not like the last girl to get chose.
You're like my BFF in my head.
Except not how Beyoncé's my BFF in my head.
You're like my BFF in my head if I knew this person in real life.
-Thank you?
-Thank you! -You're welcome.
Everything okay?
Yeah. It's just a work thing.
It can wait.
Tonight is all about celebrating
my gorgeous girlfriend and soon-to-be bestselling author.
Tonight doesn't happen without you.
I'm proud of you, baby. I love you.
Ugh. I hear the room rate at the Standard
is discounted on Tuesdays.
You actually did the damn thing.
Congratulations.
That means a lot coming from you, Barb.
I really appreciate you coming out.
I'm on the hunt for a waiter with free booze and tiny food.
Have you tried the crab cakes? They are bite-sized yum!
I'm too nervous to eat.
But it's already written.
Now you just wait for all these single Black girls
with big dreams
and too much attitude to buy it.
-Did you read it? -No.
But look at you and all these pages!
Ooh, crab cakes.
♪ Ella ♪
So, not-so-good news.
Some of the early reviews are... less than stellar.
-Oh, my God. They hate me. -Sweetie, don't spiral.
It's not a huge deal.
I just wanted to let you know so you won't get blindsided.
What are you doing? No.
I'm not letting you do this right now.
No. Okay.
there are some sentiments
that you may have abandoned your core audience
to become more palatable.
What?
Also, the words "banal" and "trite" were used,
but screw those self-righteous, Pussyhat-wearing critics.
What about the sales projections?
Oh, it's all very fluid.
Just enjoy your party, okay?
André Leon Talley is here. Mm-hmm.
Okay, that is a whole moment you got going on there.
Yes, darling, it's a look.
You like?
Jason thought it was too risqué.
Mm, for a book party? Shocking.
Ella, this party is everything!
I'm so proud of you!
I really hope that you're soaking all this up.
I was, until five minutes ago.
Apparently my book got some shitty reviews.
Do reviews matter anymore?
I'm a writer. Haven't you heard?
We're all deeply insecure.
Forget the reviews.
I just saw André Leon Talley with Pat Field.
Oh, my God. Where? I love them.
Guys, what if my book doesn't sell?
I don't have a backup plan.
Okay, okay.
Do not do your negative energy woe-is-me thing.
This is your moment.
And you get to choose how you experience it.
Look around.
This is what you asked for.
Yum. Are those lamb pops?
Oh.
♪ We're running We're running, we're running ♪
♪ We run the world We run the ♪
To be clear, it was not what I asked for.
I didn't ask for osteoporosis
or for my shit commute
or for my tax guy to retire
and only send notification by paper mail.
Who sends paper mail?
Ella, what is it you think you asked for?
I asked for success, to amplify my voice.
And you had a book published.
So a few people didn't like it.
It's no longer an accomplishment?
I thought it was the beginning of my career,
but it damn near ended it.
How?
Sure, it would've been nice
if the reviews were a little better.
But, you know, life isn't always gonna kiss your ass, sweetheart.
You have osteoporosis?
You have such good posture.
It's my lumbar pillow. It's made of Hyper Foam.
Oh.
You know, whenever we talk about this particular night,
you always mention what Renee was wearing.
Why?
Renee does things I would never do.
I would wear the bridesmaid's dress
that she picked out even if I hated it.
I did, in fact, wear a very hideous
poofy chiffon number in her wedding,
but I would never ask to have it altered
with a slit up to my cervix.
Well, this can't be a surprise to you.
No. I mean, this is who Renee is.
She's been on a crusade
to make sure everyone knows she's there
ever since her mom started letting her dress herself in the fourth grade.
But this is really not about the way she dresses, is it?
No. She always looks amazing.
-It's just, she never thinks about– -About what?
About what other people think of her?
Should she?
Yes.
No.
Sometimes.
She just walks around not giving a fuck.
Well, perhaps you resent Renee's ability to be free.
Well, when I allow myself freedom, bad things happen.
I go to one club on a weeknight and end up sleeping with a guy I just met.
-I mean, who does that? -It's New York, honey. Most people.
-Well, I'm not most people. -I know.
You're the person who never wants anyone to be mad at her ever.
♪ Shake dat thing Ms. Cana, Cana ♪
♪ Shake dat thing ♪
♪ Ms. Annabella ♪
♪ Shake dat thing, yow Donna, Donna ♪
♪ Jodi and Rebecca... ♪
Hurry up, Whitney.
What's taking so long with those drinks?
♪ When da beat drops ♪
♪ Just keep swingin' it Get jiggy... ♪
When are they gonna start playing the juke music?
You know what? I'm ready to per-co-late!
I'm waiting for the reggae set.
Where are the cuties?
♪ Gyal Nobody can tell you nothin' ♪
♪ Cuh' you don't know Your destiny... ♪
Of course.
Tall, light skin, long hair wins every time.
Mm-hmm. Um, excuse me?
Boys literally just stopped calling me Big Bird yesterday.
Remember? "She tall and she yellow"?
Well, now they're calling you America's next top model.
Right.
No one's interested in your pretty-girl problems.
Well, I'm not interested in those guys.
-Then why did you smile at them? -Because I'm nice.
♪ In di car wid us Dem nah war with us... ♪
Uh, keep walking. Mm-mm.
Bye.
They were totally into you.
Girl, they were booger-wolves.
Plus, you can't hog all the cuties.
I'm not hogging anything.
Do you think I wanted to wear this tonight?
I'm trying not to be noticed for you guys.
Bitch, ain't nobody asked you to do that.
Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable
sitting on the couch?
No, I know you see a lot of people on the edge,
and I don't wanna catch anyone else's crazy.
-Mm-hmm.
So you're upset
that Whitney was acquiescing to your feelings?
I don't need her to play small for me.
You know, Whitney's need to be liked by everyone
is actually a burden on all of us.
If she's gonna be a doormat, that's on her.
But she didn't give in to your demand
to alter the bridesmaid dress,
and you can't accept that.
Nancy, you're supposed to be on my side.
I was seeing you first.
Let's not forget that, boo-boo.
And yet, I see you the least.
And for the life of me, I don't understand how you all didn't realize
you were seeing the same therapist until after you were all seeing me.
But, seriously, I'm your favorite, right?
I'm definitely the most complex.
Renee, focus.
Why can't you respect Whitney's feelings about the dress?
I know she's the bride.
But so what?
We all have things we're going through.
I mean, why does everybody have to cater to her?
No one ever does that shit for me!
Jason and I have made a decision.
We're not having kids.
I thought we already knew this.
Yes, because I never wanted kids anyway,
but now we've discussed it and agreed upon it.
So it's official.
And college tuition's gonna be half a mil
by the time the little sucker's 18.
Also, I don't wanna move to Brooklyn and join Mocha Moms.
And the best vaginal rejuvenation guy in the city just died.
And I'm not about to push out a baby and have my vagina wrecked
without an expert who can restore it to its former glory.
Dr. Corvin died?
Yeah. Heart attack.
Big loss for the vaginal community.
Anyway...
Now Jason and I can travel the world
and live a life of endless summers.
-Sounds good. -Sounds like a plan.
-Good for you.
And who was that?
Professor Matthew Powell.
These are not school hours.
Daytime booty call.
Stop!
We are trying to keep it professional.
Obviously, I would like to fuck his brains out.
Oh, I've always had a professor fantasy.
He calls me in after class,
then we shove all the books off the desk and fuck with the blinds open.
Oh.
Okay, well, I'm pretty sure Matthew is into me,
but we obviously have to consider the ethical repercussions.
I say do it.
Do it, do it, do it.
-Do it, do it, do it, do it.
Sounds like a horrible decision
that could possibly fuck up everything you've worked for.
But, hey, listen to them.
I told these bitches about a real-life decision,
and, somehow, that was less important
than Sondi theoretically fucking some dude!
No one seems to give a shit that I'm getting a divorce,
childless, and starting over for retirement!
But you chose to get divorced,
and you chose not to have children.
Perhaps your friends think they're supporting your choices.
Well, my choices suck right now.
But you present them like they're 100%.
You damn near dare anyone to question you.
How dare you?
Well, honey, this is what you pay me for.
Renee, you gotta open up to your friends,
or there's no way they can support you.
Whatever.
Yeah, at this point,
we've known each other longer than we've not known each other.
-They should know what I need. -Oh, yeah?
They have nothing better to do than sit around trying to read your mind?
I don't think that's too much to ask.
You see? This is what I'm talking about.
You can be a little tough.
I'm tough?
And I quote, "Jane Of All Shades
should be renamed Jane Of No Shades."
That's not even clever!
Uh-uh.
You gonna let @mamaireads get you down?
Girl, she's so stupid, she has to tell people she reads.
Well, I liked your book.
This is the most I have ever related to your writing.
Ouch.
Your writing was always so much more "hear me roar" than I am,
but I love that this book embraced what it means
to be both independent and wanting.
"Wanting"? Am I wanting?
Well, I'm wanting this McQueen jacket you have on in this cover photo.
Why do I have to be the same person I was when I was 24?
Can't I evolve?
Ella, I think you're brilliant.
But let's be honest.
You've been dickmatized by Anderson for the past two years,
so this book reads less "free your mind"
and more "home on the range."
I'm sorry.
But this is not the feminist free sexploration
that you promised your readers or yourself.
You want me to slap her?
I've always wanted to know what it felt like to slap a bitch.
It's actually quite rewarding.
Who you slapped?
Oh, this Becky at Harvard
who kept trying to blow Ola sophomore year.
Her hand was on his thigh, then I found my hand on her face.
Oh, now I have to do it.
Sondi, bring your face over here.
-Girl.
Ella, I am not trying to be mean,
but I don't know who this book is for.
Seriously, just give me the word, and I'll smack her.
Oh, jeez.
Okay.
So I may come off as harsh at times.
But your real friends stab you in the front,
and then they have your back.
It's our frickin' friend motto since Spelman.
A stabbing from a friend is still a stabbing.
But I'm the mirror friend.
That's what sisters are. We're mirrors to each other.
You can't hide from your friends, and you can't hide from the mirror.
Ella is–she's not ev– I mean–
Uh, I don't know.
She's not defending me.
Who do you need defending from?
I feel like I'm under a microscope.
And–and she knows
how serious my relationship with Matthew is,
and it's like she doesn't care that I'm being disrespected.
Is this about that professor woman?
'Cause didn't we decide last week
she's a clueless bitch and fuck her?
We did.
All I'm saying is, when Ella really needs me,
I am there for her blindly.
No questions asked.
♪ Say that I'm single as fuck ♪
Here. Sip. - [Fousheé] ♪ Single as fuck ♪
Mm-mm.
I can't believe Anderson left me.
Didn't you say he was going to go work in South Africa?
Yes. He left me.
But did he actually break up with you?
Are you not hearing me?
He left me.
He didn't mention moving at all?
No! He probably didn't want me to think
that he was leaving me at the worst time of my life
because he was actually leaving me
at the worst time of my life.
Aww.
Great.
It smells like him.
Is it wrong to burn a $300 goose-down pillow?
How do you own this?
Swag bag, VMAs.
I mean, I could take it off your hands for you if you want.
He's probably ashamed to be with me.
♪whattheElla trended for six hours after my Reddit AMA,
so he probably thinks I'm a loser.
You are not a loser.
He's a loser. Fucking loser.
-But he's the love of my life. -Let's not get hyperbolic.
[Fousheé] ♪ Single as fuck... ♪
Maybe you should eat something.
♪ Single as fuck... ♪
Remember the last time I ate 5 Napkin
and I got so drunk, I threw up all over my bed?
I got you, boo. I'll make sure you puke into the toilet.
Or, you know, somewhere close to it.
I never thought Anderson was worth crying over, okay?
But, hey, she likes him, I love him.
She is in no position
to judge my relationship with Matthew.
When did she judge?
I can't help that he's successful.
And, yes, he helps me in my career,
but we work in the same field.
How can he not?
I feel like I missed something.
And then at the party,
she's standing in the corner watching me,
and I know she's sitting there thinking I'm acting like a missus
and he's not my husband yet,
and, of course, when Baptiste calls me out,
Ella says nothing because she agrees with her!
Okay, let's say that's what Ella was thinking–
that you're a missus and blah, blah, blah.
Who's giving it life? Who's making any of it matter?
I am?
Mirror, mirror, sweetheart.
You seem pretty convinced your life ended two years ago.
I spent my early 20s feeling special!
My future was bright.
I was highly favored–
all the Black-girl magic jargon in full effect,
and then, bam, it evaporated.
Now I'm stuck at a job I was so sure I was better than,
and that's only because Barb, God bless her,
was gracious enough to give me a chance after I acted like an arrogant ass.
Booyah.
-Wow, it's... A lot.
I know.
I put it on a slip of paper for effect.
Editorial director. What do you say?
It's very generous, but...
I can't accept it.
Ah. Trying to negotiate?
Savvy.
Barb, I'm gonna be busy...
writing my first book!
It's gonna be a memoir.
A memoir? At 29?
I didn't become interesting until I was at least 34,
and I have yet to write a fucking book.
Look, I don't mean to shit all over your dreams, kiddo,
but there's a big difference between being an influencer bloggy person
and an actual author.
It sounds like you're shitting on my dreams.
Oh. You know I enjoy you.
Your little rants– "my hair's not my superpower,"
uh, "my tears are expensive"–
often make me LOL on the subway.
But they're just musings.
A hundred thousand followers disagree.
Think you need to do a gut check.
See if you're ready to go deep enough for a memoir.
My publisher's just released a bestseller by an eight-year-old,
proof that you're never too young if you have something to say.
Yeah.
You're talking about a third grader growing up in Syria during the civil war,
'cause apples and war zones, dear.
Barb, I value your opinion, truly, but...
sometimes even you're wrong.
Name a time.
Thank you.
Hmm.
What a disaster.
Okay, I don't know if she actually said,
-"What a disaster," but– Listen.
It makes sense that you've lost some confidence.
We have to work on getting it back.
Nanjo, I don't know if you get that feeling,
that kind of invincibility back once you've lost it.
All I think about now is financial security.
It doesn't leave a whole lot of room for fearlessness.
You're using this book as an excuse.
It's not an excuse. It's what happened.
It's what's holding you back.
And what's next?
No one's gonna hire you to write this sad-sack tale.
You have to think about what it is you wanna say.
You know, it's been two years since you've written anything personal.
It's because I'm too busy working at fuckin' Hot Tea Digest!
You say that like it pains you.
Last week we wrote a piece on the most popular dogs on TikTok.
It's not exactly Pulitzer material.
I follow Buddy the Beagle. He's adorable.
Of course.
Look, Hot Tea Digest is an opportunity, okay?
You've got the talent, you've got the time,
and if you choose to, you can start over.
That is a luxury, not a burden.
If you don't show up for your future,
no one else will.
You know, I'm surprised you didn't ask Matthew
about what Baptiste said to you.
Did I mention that Baptiste kept calling me "sis"?
You did.
On our Zoom call, over and over.
Listen, maybe I'm old,
maybe it's cultural, but I don't get why it's offensive.
Never mind, Nancy, it's–it is. It's cultural.
You know, Sondi, you're stifling yourself,
and it's making you miserable.
And it's why you're picking a fight with Ella.
I'm not stifling myself.
Well, you have made a lot of changes for Matthew.
And now you're worried
about what all those people you were showing off for
are gonna think
if you two don't work out.
You know, honey, there's a difference
between being your best and being the best.
Like right now.
Why don't you put your pen down, okay?
I know every word that I utter is a literal gem,
but I promise you,
all the important stuff, you're gonna remember.
You know, you work so hard at being perfect at everything,
you're giving yourself anxiety.
Are you sure that I just can't write that part down?
'Cause I feel like I'm gonna miss some stuff.
You know what? Okay.
Okay. I'll just record.
Oh, Whitney.
-All right. -Seriously?
Okay, here we go.
You can't be mad at people for being selfish.
Life is ultimately about self.
And this tear of self-sabotage that you're on,
it's only gonna get worse until you figure out
how to be kind to yourself.
And then I don't know how to tell you this,
but sometimes, you're gonna make mistakes.
Well, I definitely aimed high on the mistake-achievement ladder.
Well, you tend to overdo things, hon.
If you're not gonna tell Ola that you cheated,
just move on.
Stop torturing yourself.
Okay, what do I do about Renee and the slit?
Let her have it. Don't let her have it. Who cares?
Is it wrong
that I wanna look amazing when I walk down the aisle
with a man I'm divorcing?
It shouldn't be a big deal if I wanna give him a little leg.
Can't I have something I need for once?
Your tits are not your needs, Renee.
Maybe you should embrace the fact
that wearing a shiny dress doesn't distract from the pain.
There's nothing weak about wearing your feelings.
And now a little homework before next week's session.
And by the way, this all works a lot better
if you show up more than once every three months.
You see all of my friends on the regular.
I asked them what they talked about,
and I get my advice vicariously, you know?
Buy-one-get-one-free therapy.
That's not how therapy works, Renee.
Come on, honey. You're going through a divorce.
You're afraid to be alone.
You don't tell your friends what you're going through,
you're gonna push them away.
And you're gonna need them
because you're refusing to do the work in here with me.
So this week I want you to start conversations
with an "I feel" statement.
I feel...
like this is a stupid assignment.
Okay. Not "of course." You make up songs all the time.
I do, I do, I know. Not "of course."
Ladies. -Hey.
-Hi. -How was Nancy?
Hilarious as always.
Apparently nothing is wrong with me.
Oh, yeah. She's said that to me before.
-She's never said that to me. -Me either.
I always said you two were the craziest.
-Hey, so about that slit.
-I already called Amsale. No, no, don't.
Okay. Um, everyone, I need your attention.
Um...
I feel...
Oh?
Maybe you haven't noticed, but...
this divorce has been challenging for me
and I'm flailing a little.
This has been a lot harder than I expected.
And I was so mad at Jason for so long,
and now that the mad is wearing off,
I'm scared of being alone forever.
Oh, sweetie.
I might not have sex with you,
but you are not going to be alone.
I could be in my condo for days, dying,
with no one noticing as I rot.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Renee, no one is gonna let you decompose.
Yeah, not even a little. You know we're here for you.
That's right.
Okay. Okay.
We're–we're going to the sappy place, okay?
All right. Who wants oysters?
Okay.
You guys,
can I just say...
I really love y'all.
Oh, Lord, now you got the mushy one all worked up.
No, but, seriously, like,
I would do a bid for any one of y'all.
Really?
Yeah. -'Cause I would not.
Not happening.
I would frame every one of you to keep myself out of jail.
Okay. Anyways...
-I love you, guys! -It's fine.
-Cheers to honesty.
To honesty!
Embarrass me in front of all these people.
That's fine.